


Pull Us Down

by freiheitfuehlen



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freiheitfuehlen/pseuds/freiheitfuehlen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of 5x03. Will and Diane, the remains of Team Invincible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull Us Down

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to orbythesea.

 

 

 

 

 _During the struggle_  
They will pull us down  
But please, please  
Let's use this chance  
To turn things around  
And tonight  
We can truly say  
Together we're invincible 

_\- Muse_

 

 

He is at her door at quarter past midnight, drunk off his face. Diane looks at him with fierceness in her eyes. She does not need to be reprimanded again. Not tonight, not ever, not by him. He does not say anything. He just looks at her with his piercing blues eyes, those angry eyes of his. Diane does not remember the last time she saw him happy, does not remember whether or not she has ever seen him happy. Not even – or rather especially for those short months he was with Alicia. Not even then did he seem happy, genuinely happy, she adds to that train of thought. There is always a cloud hanging above his head, threatening to release a downpour of cold, skin-burning drops of bitterness.

 

“How did we get here,” he asks calmly, almost too calmly for the situation they are in, Diane notices. The resignation in the space between them is so thick it feels like a brick wall rather than an unwelcome emotion.

 

“Life,” Diane replies with a sigh, but she does not believe it, not one bit and she knows he does not buy it either.

 

He straightens his shoulders in an attempt to regain confidence, clarity, faith. He leans his head against the side of the door frame and when he looks at her, Diane feels a shiver run down her spine, through her nerves to tickle inside the tips of her toes.

 

“I stopped seeing other women,” he says quietly and forces a smile upon his lips. “So you wouldn't leave.”

 

Diane sighs and says, “Is this really the threshold you want to be standing on?”

 

Will laughs bitterly then. He has stopped believing in love a long time ago, maybe he never has in the first place. That is a thought, though, that he refuses to entertain further. Love is something Will feels like he is too inept to grasp its concept, to fully understand its meaning, to make love work. He wants to tell her this, wants to admit that Diane is the only friend he has ever really trusted. He does not voice those thoughts, instead he says, “I don't want you to leave. Still, Diane. I want to make things right, so you don't leave.”

 

Diane can hear her heart breaking in her chest, piece by pieces falling to the bottom of her stomach, leaving a hole in the place where her heart used to be.

 

“William,” she begins and feels the shift in his demeanor by the way she calls out his name softly. Will closed his eyes, ready to be shot down again.

 

“I want to be a judge. I've always wanted to be a judge.”

 

 

Will nods his head and steps forward, invading her personal space. He thinks he notices her taking in a breath of surprise when he comes close to her face. Will places a tender kiss on her cheek.

 

“You're my anyway friend, Diane.” He steps back again, looking at her sadly. “You said earlier that you must have hurt me and you did. You hurt me, because I never thought you be anything but my anyway friend. I always thought that no matter what happened, you'd be my friend anyway.”

 

He looks at her for a moment, studying the features of her face so intensively, almost as if this was the last time he ever could again.

 

“Be a judge,” Will says and smiled reassuringly at her. “Be happy. Be everything I could never be.”

 

He turns on his heels then, leaving Diane lost for words and watching his retreating figure.

 

“Every Friday,” she whispers into the darkness of the hallway, but he was long gone.

 

The end.

 

 


End file.
